A Little Too Late
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Youji is sure that Aya doesn't love him, but he's been wrong before. Aya saves him during a mission
1. Default Chapter

A Little Too Late  
  
By Nix Winter  
  
A hit is like any other job, Youji thought, dark hair a wave against a pale cheek, predatory violence a wave against his thoughts. Except that with this job, a little part of you never goes home with you. He fingered his wires. Darkness steeped in his soul like a bitter tea The sugar that he'd found at the bottom of the cup, one day, while looking in Aya's eyes only made the tea more bitter.  
  
Or maybe it was that the sugar was so very fragile in the bitter. He waited there though, back to the wall, wires in woven around fingers like a deadly cat's cradle. This was the exit path Omi had expected their target to take. People needed someone to protect their hopes and dreams, to protect their daughters and sisters. That's why Youji was there, waiting in the dark, with sin a deep bitter tea in his soul. The man who'd try to escape up this passage, and out to a waiting helicopter, owned a pharmaceutical company which produced drugs that lowed inhibitions. Not that this was his company's main focus, at least on paper. Girls and women cried, bore marks on their souls and bodies because of this man. Youji closed his eyes. It was the least he could do to shift some of that sin back onto the creator.  
  
"Kudou?" Aya's voice silked through the com link between them all and Youji wondered if he were the only one who heard that silky smooth voice, heard the poetry and potential, or if they all heard it, but were just not perverted enough to get a hard on waiting in the dark.  
  
"Hai?"  
  
It was perverted too. Aya hated him and Youji knew it. There was that sugar, lingering like potential happiness, potential smiles, under their daily lives, and Youji knew he'd ruined the sugar for himself only hours before the mission. Aya had been leaning on the counter in the flower shop, reading, sunlight in his hair, finger tips gliding and pausing along the lines of an English novel. It had been one of those moments when Youji felt alive, felt hopeful, felt like he wasn't completely ruined, and he'd leaned against the counter too, meet Aya's gaze when the man had looked up at him. 'I love you,' he'd said, just out of the blue, no preamble, no explanation, no taking it back. He'd smiled. It was the most alive he'd felt since Asuka's death and at that moment he would have traded the very rest of his life for another five minutes of looking into Aya's eyes, another two minutes from the five for a smile in return.  
  
Love me back, he'd asked with the seduction in his green eyes, silky hair vainly around his face, collar open. He'd begged inside his soul, 'Love me back.'  
  
He'd been too busy looking at Aya's eyes to notice the fist. Somehow the rage hadn't made it to those eyes, so deep and soulful, with such personality and such beauty. The impact of Aya's elbow had knocked him back, then the back hand of a fist against his chest was quickly followed by the other fist against his ribs.  
  
Youji had crumpled a rice paper crane in the rain of reality. Ken had caught the next blow before it could blacken Youji's face. "Mission," Ken snarled.  
  
It wasn't like they didn't all fight. It wasn't like they didn't all say hurtful things from time to time. It was the kindness of the damned, just to make sure they were still alive, maybe.  
  
Aya stepped over Youji even as Ken held out his hand. The darkest bruise in Youji's soul though was that he didn't love Aya even a sip less. It was bitter tea.  
  
"Kudou," Aya snapped, irritation sharpening the words.  
  
"What?" Youji sorted his threads, deadly threads of life and death. "What do you want?"  
  
There was a pause and Youji could feel his heart beating, his breath holding, as he waited for the next words, any words from Aya. There was a tiny fuzz of static as Aya switched to a private channel, taking Youji with him. "Are you hurt?"  
  
"The target hasn't even got here," Youji said, dancing around the fight they'd had earlier. Forgiveness, tarnished and bitter, but it was his version of forgiveness anyway. God, he wanted a cigarette. "I'm okay."  
  
That was a lie, but a small one. His side hurt, hurt more than he was going to tell anyone else, but it wasn't bad enough to slow him down.  
  
"Did you mean it?"  
  
Youji blinked, slowly licked his lips. Aya was going to kill him, and he couldn't bring himself to lie anyway. To deny that he loved Aya, this secret and maybe parasitic well being he got by loving Aya, would be, well, to die. "I meant," Youji paused, distracted by the echo of running feet in the passage. Omi and Ken had flushed out the target, and a friend or two. Crap. "Target's here."  
  
Wire flashed, nooses, webs, pulling, splattering. Youji always got his hands dirty. There was something separate about this part of a mission. Kudou Youji was a detective, a drinker, a player in the sun with a generous smile, and a hedonistic streak like bourbon on a Friday night. Balinese was deadly, sin and death, the flash of wire, a smile with a fleck of blood on pale cheek. Balinese reveled in Aya's rejection. Balinese squared off with the remaining protector of the target, pausing in some kind of honorable ritual to allow the man to draw his weapon. When ya gonna learn? The target edged towards the exit. The protector's hand shook. There blood flecks there too.  
  
Cat's cradle around the wrist, shift the pattern. The protector screamed, gun hitting the floor with fingers that never got the impulse to squeeze the trigger.  
  
Balinese could hear Aya's breath, still on the private channel, there with him in some kind of intimacy that Balinese didn't understand. Abyssinian and Balinese were the same, grief manifest as death. Balinese gave chase to the fleeing man who'd sold so many other lives away for his drug profits. Justice and revenge incarnate, Balinese spun wires that snared a husky throat and pulled, arms wide, the struggling man close enough to put a desperate elbow into already bruised ribs. Balinese grunted. Aya snarled on the other end of the com link. Balinese tightened wires, making a garrote of them. It was close. It was personal. It marked his own soul with a black self hate that Aya's rejection gave him no reprieve from.  
  
Another elbow took his cracking ribs. Aya's breathing was fast, panting in the connection. Darkness narrowed Balinese's vision, closing it in like an old TV set shutting off. The man in front of him sagged, and the wires finally freed themselves, slicing through everything caught within them. Balinese staggered back a couple steps, lost without his target, he became Youji again, Youji with warm blood soaking into the cold black of his assassin gear. Shot? He turned to find a pistol held in the protector's left hand, crazed eyes trying to focus on him, but the hand shaking too much to get a good bead. Youji's hands lowered to his sides. Until that very moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd been living for Aya, for those soft and infrequent smiles, for the honest heart that hide in the rage and grief. Youji closed his eyes and told his knees to hold.  
  
"Aya?"  
  
There was only panting as a response. Aya was running. That made the most perfect sense. The mission was finished. They all needed to meet at the extraction point. "Aya. I meant it."  
  
The man holding the gun on him fired again, getting his arm, but just such a slight scratch. Youji stood his ground, eyes closed, letting his mind play through the times he'd watched Aya quietly. Aya was nothing like Asuka, really, but he was better, fascinating. Youji had always known he'd never marry Asuka, never even ask her. He loved her, would always love her. The sex had been good, but it was like sex with the women he went through like packs of smokes. It never went deep enough and he'd told her to leave him anyway, told her to run. He'd only slowed her down. He would have slowed Aya down too.  
  
The next shot missed completely. Aya's scream echoed through the tight passage, rage like he could make a sword of that alone, and suddenly Youji considered running. Being shot might be nothing compared to what a truly enraged Aya could do to him. The shooter lost his head, then the blade came back through body and spine. Youji blinked. Through the com link he could hear the hissing snarling breath against Aya's lips. "Are you going to kill me," he whispered softly into the com link.  
  
Aya's fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword. In his eyes he saw Youji standing there shaking, the blood soaking into the edges of leather, dimming the shine of it. A breathing Youji was the most beautiful sight, next to his sister waking, maybe even then. Aya reached up and adjusted the connection, in time to get a nearly hysterical Omi in his ear. "Where are you both!? What are you doing? Abyssinian! Balinese!"  
  
"Target down," Aya said calmly, watching Youji with calculating eyes. "Balinese has taken damage. Going to the Dollhouse."  
  
"You need help," Ken asked, voice clearer.  
  
"Am fine," Youji said, flicking the switch that would disengage his used wire, dropping it to the killing floor.  
  
"Negative," Aya said without much confidence. He wasn't really sure that he could carry Youji. Youji was taller and despite being slender was all muscle.  
  
It was his left knee that bent first, forward, back, then forward like something broken. The rest of him went to, crumpling to the side in a spiral of numbness. Aya's arm slipped under his and slowed the fall, guiding him down. "No, assistance needed. Get med assistance waiting."  
  
Youji thought he sounded so urgent. It wasn't as if it really mattered. Aya's fingers caressed his face, wiping away blood. A thumb brushed over his eyelashes, and he let himself dream that Aya was touching him, loving him, concerned for him. Anything was possible in the land of dreams, and that was where Youji went. 


	2. two

Chapter Two  
  
Youji stood back, watching. He didn't think his body was that heavy, but Aya seemed to be having trouble getting his arm under it, trouble lifting him up. He thought his hair looked lighter in this dim light, but decided it was just that what light was there picked out the curves and waves of his hair. Nice. He'd been pretty good looking. It was shallow, but it was better than thinking about being dead, he defended himself, to himself.  
  
Moving around so he could look at Aya, he admitted that Aya was prettier, pretty enough to break his heart. In the dark of the escape passage that red hair was so deep, a russet like the last wine of the day, deep and sweet. Youji reached out to touch the long strand by Aya's face, fingers passing through it. "Why ya angry, baby? It's not that big of a loss."  
  
His fingers traced through a tear on Aya's cheek that he couldn't believe in. Unreal fingers and unbelievable emotion, Youji didn't know which to believe in less.  
  
"I didn't mean it, Youji," Aya said, struggling with the dead weight of the dirty blond killer. "Oh, God, Youji, I didn't mean it!"  
  
"Oh fuck me!" Ken growled, running down into the tunnel, skidding, almost slipping on the blood, "Youji, you idiot!"  
  
Aya's eyes flashed, dangerous. Ken slowed. "Aya?" There was that undertone in Ken's voice, the slight accusation.  
  
"You think I did this?" Aya said, voice a ghost of itself, his free hand covering Youji's cheek, keeping his head from rolling away from Aya's chest.  
  
"Well," Ken lay his wrists over his head, claws catching what little light there was, blocking it from the still soft curls that wanted it so badly. "I wasn't sure you didn't."  
  
Youji laughed, one hand over his mouth, threatening to hold his nose, as if he needed to hide the laughter from someone. There wasn't anyone to hide from now though. God only knew when his ancestors were showing up to fetch him. Still, he didn't really want to offend them before he left the plane. Plenty of time for that later.  
  
He looked up towards the light at the end of the escape tunnel, then back towards Aya and he knew, in the deepest foundation of his soul that he wouldn't leave, even if it offended the crap out of his ancestors.  
  
"It's okay baby, I know you didn't mean it," he said to Aya, and some of the deadly rage drained from that beautiful face. "It's okay, baby, I wouldn't leave you."  
  
Aya reached down and took firm hold of Youji's black coat, thin Teflon lined leather bunching within the tight hold of Aya's fist, compressing under anger and grief. "Damn it, Ken. He's not dead."  
  
Youji blinked. Ken nodded curtly and moved to help Aya. Offense going all around. "Gim'me an arm. We gotta go."  
  
Not dead? The floor turned to so much static and Youji dropped through the concrete, ghostly arms grabbing for floor that wasn't, even as Ken and Aya got his body upright, held between them. "Don't leave me! Wait! Don't leave me!" he screamed into the darkness, clawing against nothing. Falling, feeling gravity, rushing air, he forgot even that he was dead.  
  
He landed on the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet, crouching, panting, lost. He still wore his dark glasses. Mouth dry, he pulled them down his nose a little, hoping to deal better with the minimal light. He was in a room, dark wood panels, books, Persian rug, and the scent of incense burning in the distance. The tip of his tongue moved slowly over his lip as thoughts added up in his mind.  
  
The mission had gone wrong. He'd woken up here. The others might be here too. Sudden fear tightened around his heart. Aya. He needed Aya to be okay. It wasn't polite and he hardly thought he should mention it to anyone, that the ruby ice cube made him feel alive, made him hope that he wasn't such a waste of space. The others were good too. Ken and Omi were family, irritating little brothers, but Aya. And there was something at the back of his mind, that he ought to remember. Something about making Aya mad, but that wasn't really anything new. What ever had happened, drugs? Head injury? Either way, it was clouding his thoughts, and he couldn't remember much beyond being in the Koneko, watching the sunlight play over Aya's hair.  
  
Blood, sharp, coppery, fear scented blood suddenly laced over the air like a decadent death and he found himself licking at the blood in the corner of his mouth. Where had that come from? He rocked back on his heels, wiped his mouth. Wherever the hell he was, there was a door and he could just walk home. Home, home was where sunlight filtered over Aya's hair, where there was some hope of getting Aya to smile. Yeah, he'd just walk home.  
  
He stood, surveying his body for injury. Other than the bleeding of his lip, which didn't seem to want to stop. In fact, he hadn't felt this good in a long time. His back didn't hurt. The break he'd gotten in his arm a few months before didn't have that ache that had just gotten to be a subconscious reminder of being alive, and being an asshole the universe didn't like. He took his glasses off and ran hand through his hair, fluffing it. There was something, just wrong, just off, about the library he was in. Everything was off somehow.  
  
The windows were blacked out. On the inside they were normal windows, four panes each with dark polished wood between. This place was too nice, too much like story book place. Outside though, was nothing, not even the depth of night, just a flat black. "Hello, Youji," a male voice greeted him, gentle, vibrant.  
  
Youji spun away from the windows to find a man with red hair, bright as Aya's, but longer, laying around his shoulders. The man wore a flowing silver shirt, frilly cuffs that lay over delicate hands, tight black pants. "I'm Daniel," the man said, holding out a wine glass with a dark red finding its own equilibrium, staining the sides dark where it rose too high. "Wine?"  
  
Fear. Youji took a step back, glaring over the top of his glasses. "Where am I?"  
  
"This is my house. I hope you'll be comfortable here," he said with a smile, then sipped his own glass, which left just a bit too much red on his lips. "I really wasn't expecting you so soon though."  
  
Youji checked the time on his watch, little finger triggering the release on his wire. "How did I get here?"  
  
Daniel laughed, a sedate snort of a laugh. "I would guess you stood in one place too long. Try the wine. You'll like it."  
  
"No, can't really," Youji said, moving towards the door, even as Daniel moved into the room. "Really must go.  
  
The chair behind the desk seemed to fit Daniel perfectly, probably would have been too small for Youji, but custom made for the red head, who set Youji's glass of wine down, took another sip of his, then smiled. "You're welcome to try. There are many doors in this house, but I doubt you'll find the way out. The place is full of ghosts looking for a door out. Wouldn't do to have the world cluttered up with people who don't want to be there, would it?"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Youji reached for his ear, for the com piece that had been there. He was sure. He'd heard Aya say... say that he didn't mean it... Didn't mean what?  
  
"Have some wine, Youji. Forget the door out. Relax. You don't have to fight anymore. I want you here. You might find some old friends here. Besides, you like red heads, don't you?"  
  
The fear that Youji had felt when Daniel first appeared had mellowed, numbed by too much adrenaline, too much fear, but now it was back. There were some clues in what this man said, some rules that shouldn't be broken. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
"I'm many things," Daniel said, "but if Daniel is too nondescript for you, you can call me Death. Have some wine. Don't you want to forget your pain?"  
  
Youji ran, just turned and ran. There was a door out. There was. Daniel's laughter echoed down the hall way after him.  
  
Aya paced. Hospitals should have been familiar, comfortable, but they weren't. Three hours and still Youji was lost in a surgery that should have lasted less than an hour. He stopped pacing, accepted a warm paper cup from a pale faced Omi.  
  
Aya sipped his coffee, found it had no taste, watched the face in the window cry. He hadn't meant it. Youji. There were no words, and only his reflection cried.  
  
The bullet had carried a poison, a drug, in the nose. So much more complicated that just a simple clean bullet. Everything was so much more complicated. 


	3. three

A Little Too Late  
  
By Nix Winter  
  
Youji ran until there was no place to run, until all the halls were the same. Then he started thinking. His body felt real enough. He could feel his heart beating, Christ, he could feel anger boiling in his veins. "Daniel!"  
  
"Yes?" a very mellow voice asked. "Why stop running now? Such energy, such power, run a little more."  
  
"You prick! Where am I?"  
  
"You're not in Hell. You ought to be grateful." Daniel sat there in a large black leather wing chair, one leg across the other, white shirt open by the first couple of buttons. "Come have a drink with me?"  
  
"I want to go back to Aya," Youji said, leaning forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after his endless sprint. "Put me back!"  
  
Dark red wine swirled. "Oh, but why would I want to do that? I do not pluck people from Hell just to send them back where they were. Most of them don't really want to go anyway. Give this place a chance." He held out the wine, the imprint of his own iridescent lip gloss on the lip. "What do you have back there that you want so badly? To be arrested for doing that people should have done themselves? To have Aya spit on you because you're a faggot?"  
  
"Aya wouldn't do that," Youji panted, dropping down to his knees. "Aya was coming to...."  
  
"To what? Tell you he only blackened your eye because he was surprised? Coming to tell you he loves you and wants to run away and be a teacher in Seattle?"  
  
Youji cried alone in his room sometimes, muffled by his pillow, mellowed by a bit of brandy, his crimes and self hate could get polished down, but crying now, on his knees before this beautiful demon, only made the tears feel like acid, feel as if his soul were scoured and laid bare. "Why not? We could run away and I could be a private investigator again and he could be a teacher or an accountant and we could walk in the park."  
  
"You are a murderer," Daniel said, reasonably, "A spiller of blood saved from the fires of Hell only because I fancied you. It's a little too late for anything else, don't you think?"  
  
God, he'd known it was too late for so long. It had been too late for him since he'd killed Neu, and even before that, too late since Asuka had died. He didn't deserve love. He didn't deserve the sweetness of watching Aya in his life. Sorrow, grief melted him from the inside out so that his lungs and heart felt like black sludge and his bones brittle wishes not kept. "It's too late for me," Youji agreed.  
  
The demon slipped from his chair and moved to Youji, "It's too late for what was, but not for the future, Youji, my beautiful love. Drink with me, leave what was behind. You'll be happy here. I look a little like him, do I not? And I will love you."  
  
Youji didn't pull away as Daniel's thumb caressed trembling lips. This would never work, he knew it in his deepest being. No matter how nice the demon was, all that held Youji to life was a red head icicle on the other side of the veil. It was a longing for Aya that made him hold together as a conscious person, here or back in the real world. Youji still did not believe in Hell. Once he let go of Aya, he would simply cease to be.  
  
Maybe that was what was best for Aya, for Youji just to cease to be.  
  
  
  
Six hours was not a long time to be in trauma surgery. Aya hated every moment, but it gave him time to think, to really think about the decline that Youji had been on. He wasn't one for long and lacy thoughts, but more like the slice of a katana, he liked to slice it right down to the bone. Youji needed to be away from the death and dying. Youji needed someone who would smile at him.  
  
Aya didn't know if he could do it. He hadn't wanted to smile for anyone for a long time. But he wanted to smile for Youji.  
  
Manx waited in the doorway to the waiting room, arms across her chest. When Aya finally saw her, she said, no smile, eyes just normal, "He's dead."  
  
His blood turned katana sharp. "You're lying."  
  
Pulled from his thoughts, he could hear Omi crying, knew Ken was with him. Aya's thoughts added facts up, fast. If Youji were dead, Manx would not react like a manikin. They'd had their tumble too, and Aya new the woman cared for his soulmate. Aya had decided that Youji was his, dangerous and possessive, but the decision was made. If Youji wasn't dead, but they were being told he was, it was because the blond was damaged too much to be of use to Kritiker, and that they were planning on seeing that he was disposed of.  
  
"I'll take him. Let me take him to America."  
  
Manx blinked, her smooth façade cracking. "He's dead."  
  
"You know that's not true yet. Let me take him away. I'll be of no use to anyone without him."  
  
"When did that happen," Manx asked, shaking her head.  
  
"A little at a time. We've done good for you," Aya said, hating how much pleading there was in his voice. "Let us go."  
  
"He's likely to be blinded by the poison. It may have affected his speech centers as well."  
  
A mute Kudou. Who would have thought. "I don't care."  
  
She stepped into the room, closed the door, locked it. "I thought about it, about taking him out of here."  
  
"Are you in love with him," Aya asked, watching her walk to the glass and chrome wet bar.  
  
"I thought I was. He's very charming," she said, her excuse maybe. So efficient, she pulled on her gloves. "You wouldn't have the chance to say good bye."  
  
Ken and Omi. Aya's heart hurt. They were his family. "We could all go."  
  
"What? Do you think I'm going to get permission for this? Don't be stupid." She took two cyanide capsules and spilled the contents into a plastic baggie. The empty shells, she held out to Aya. "Get your prints on these."  
  
No way back, he thought, taking the deadly little orange shells, pinching them so they would have his prints on them, as if he'd opened them. "It shouldn't have to be like this."  
  
"See?" she said, smiling as she stirred two capsules of blue powder into the rum and coke she'd made for him. "You're already thinking like a civilian. You never fit any better than he did. Not that anyone does. Drink up."  
  
There wasn't really any asking if it would kill him or not. She'd just lie, or make this harder. "He deserves better."  
  
"I've already paid for his passage. Drink up, or I wouldn't be able to afford yours as well."  
  
Aya closed his eyes, sent a prayer to his ancestors, to Youji, wherever that spirit was and downed the drink. He didn't even feel himself drop. It was a death, in a way. Manx fingered the baggy in her pocket, and just stood there, watching Aya's breathing slow, go shallow, stop. Beautiful, lovely, untouchable dead man, she thought, so relaxed with his lips slightly parted, pale face lost in dreams that weren't.  
  
Maybe it had taken just long enough for Omi to grow concerned, because the youngest member of Weiss slipped his head in, blinked at the tears on Manx's face. "Manx-san? AYA-kun! Oh god!"  
  
Omi screamed and dropped to his knees by Aya. "Get a doctor! Manx! Get a doctor." Aya had no pulse. "Aya-kun!"  
  
Ken lost the lunch he'd only half eaten in a waste can by the door. Love unspoken can leave hearts with loss they hadn't expected.  
  
"Manx-san! What happened? Get a doctor! This is a hospital!"  
  
"It was his choice," she said coldly. "Didn't want to live without Kuduo. Go home, both of you. There is nothing more to be done."  
  
Ken wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kicked the can viciously. "I quit. I'm done. Omi?"  
  
Omi's eyes went wide, and he looked up at Manx, back to Ken, his face losing all color. "Ken-kun," he whispered. "You don't mean it!"  
  
"Remember whose dog you are, Hidaka," Manx spat, walking towards the door, her heels clicking on the floor. "Go home. Everything will be alright."  
  
It was forever, that Omi sat there, holding Aya's wrist, waiting for a pulse. Finally, Ken moved, grabbed Omi's hand and they left. Hidaka Ken was no one's dog, not now. And Neither was his Omi. One love might be gone, but the other was going to be okay.  
  
Aya stayed. Red hair hiding a chilling face, knees bent, heart beating so very slowly.   
  
Youji let Death caress his face, brush back sweaty blond hair. He let death lean close, cool lips touch his. And then  
  
That's when he saw her, reflected in Daniel's eyes. Youji spun, knocking over Daniel's wine. "Asuka! Asuka!"  
  
She was there, just like the day she'd first died, tight pants, a tight wicked smile, and she wore his old hat. She pushed the brim up and waved. "Youji."  
  
Daniel cursed blue, insulting Asuka's parentage and sexual habits. Youji spun again and this time his fist sent Daniel flying back against the chair. "Don't say that kind of thing!"  
  
"She's a demon!" Daniel snarled, rubbing his jaw. "I knew you weren't done running yet!"  
  
"Asuka!" And chase he did, just like he'd been chasing for years. She went this way, that way, through the maze of halls and he followed. "Wait! Please!"  
  
He caught up with her at the end of a dead end hall. She smiled, so much like she'd been when he knew her "Asuka! I'm sorry! God! I'm so sorry!"  
  
"You saved me, Youji," she said taking his hat off. "You always did. Neu wasn't me, just a prison to hold what tiny bit of me was left."  
  
He buried his hands in his hair, overcome by the emotion. "I killed you! I didn't want to!"  
  
She crossed to him, put his hat on his head. "I know, Yo-chan. I know. I didn't mean to hurt you either. I've wanted so much to tell you that, that it wasn't your fault. I love you, Yo-chan. I loved who you were when we were partners and I love you now."  
  
"Aya." Youji said, finger gliding along the edge of his hat brim, a forgotten mannerism coming back.  
  
"I know about Aya. I'm glad you love him, Yo-chan. It means I can move on. You've always had too big of a heart, caring with so much energy that there's not enough left for yourself. You need someone one to take care of you."  
  
"I do not!" Youji said, offended.  
  
"Yes, you do. And in return, you give a love that whoever is taking care of you needs just as much. I know I did. You need Aya now. Call him to him, so you can find your way back."  
  
"Asuka," Youji said softly. "Are we really dead?"  
  
"You're not," she said softly, hand on his chest. "You're a lot less dead than you were. Live, Yo-chan. Enjoy living. Promise me this and I can let go, go on to the other side."  
  
He caught her to him, an arm around the small of her back. While he didn't believe in an after life for himself, just dissolved nothing waited for him. For her he believed in Heaven, in happily ever after and belief made everything in this place. "I promise. I'll love him and I'll live."  
  
The kiss he gave her was one he'd never done when they were both breathing, intimate and loving, lips saying things he couldn't have said with a million words. Of all the women he'd kissed, seduced with lies of lip and tongue, this was the last, the sweetest, the good bye to lies. She equaled his kiss, washing him in forgiveness and understanding, her smaller tongue, evading and dancing with his. When she disappeared, it was as if he'd never lost her at all. He took a deep breath, a shiver moving across his shoulder.  
  
"Aya! Aya!" He called, feeling rather silly, as if he could just call to the living and have them answer. Asuka has suggested he wasn't dead though, made him promise to live. "Fujimiya Ran!"  
  
Youji blinked, slowly, the air around him so heavy, drawing him down as if he'd drown right there. "Fu..." he snarled, but the floor was already gone.  
  
When he opened his eyes the floor was metal and swaying. Forgetting he was nothing more than a spirit, he reached out for a table. The room was small, with round windows, and there at the edge of the room was a bed just large enough for two. A blond with clean dry curls lay in the arms of a red head, who slept as well, even though his fingers caressed through blond curls unconsciously. Maybe it was Aya's way of summoning.  
  
Spirit Youji stood there for a moment, just watching Aya hold his body. How could it be that easy, just decide to live. And yet, it felt like a life time away that he'd let that guard take his life away. He didn't feel sorry though, just felt relieved, felt hopeful.  
  
Without walking, he found himself across the small cabin, reaching down to touch Aya's face, those fiery red eyelashes. Suspicious violet eyes snapped open and Youji laughed, silent in his spirit form. Aya was Aya, and Youji's heart swelled, warm and happy. "Aya," he said, knowing the red head couldn't really hear him. The next blink took him back into his body, shivering and achy, but Aya was there, arm under him, pulling him close.  
  
"Youji?"  
  
"Aya," he said, voice raspy, "I meant it, you know. I still do."  
  
"Good," Aya snarled, "I didn't mean it when I hit you. I just didn't know how to react and I got scared. Do you hurt? Are you feeling okay?"  
  
Youji pushed himself up on one elbow, one hand reaching out to touch Aya's hair, the warm side of Aya's face. "God, I love you."  
  
Their kiss began the next song of Youji's life, just as kissing Asuka had ended the old one. One hand behind Aya's head, Youji committed himself with that kiss, deep slow thrusts, swirls, tasting and caressing, sharing in a kiss that blended breath and soul.  
  
It didn't matter that they were on a ship bound for Seattle, only that they were with each other and that they could make whatever kind of tea they fancied. 


End file.
